


The Gospel According To Cas

by themetaphornextdoor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, Crack, Humor, Kinks, M/M, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themetaphornextdoor/pseuds/themetaphornextdoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dean starts his own hunting journal. Castiel makes some amendments."<br/>Dean/Cas, R, Crack. 1,060 words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gospel According To Cas

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Sexual References, Blasphemy (It's Supernatural, right?)  
> Spoilers: Very vague Season 6 (Barely worth mentioning)  
> To make reading easier, Dean's writing is bold and Castiel's writing is in italics.

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_"Gospel:_ _Religious doctrine: the written body of teachings of a religious group that are generally accepted by that group; A doctrine that is believed to be of great importance; Can also refer to the literal book which contains any one or all of these texts._ " ~ Wikipedia

 

John Winchester had the right idea. One of few, but nevertheless, it was a good one. A collection of basic supernatural knowledge and experiences in one handy, portable book; Dean only had to think back on the countless times he and Sam had searched their father's diary over the years to know it was a useful, if not great, idea.

And their dad might not have invented the concept, but it was still a legacy worth leaving his sons. He and Sam had used it extensively, especially during their first few years of hunting.

So Dean had caved and finally purchased his own - a thick, sturdy, leather-bound journal.

And by purchased, he meant, well… 'acquired' (Those things are damn expensive).

But that wasn't the point.

The process was tedious, and Dean couldn't draw to save himself, but it didn't really matter. It was the information that was important, and as long as the sigils and diagrams were clear and down on paper, Dean was happy.

Passing a journal of supernatural knowledge on to a younger generation or less experienced hunter seemed fairly unlikely. But if life had taught Dean anything, it was to expect the unexpected. In any case, the reference would at least be helpful for he and Sam.

It wasn't like they had regular periods of inactivity that didn't involve sleep or driving (or sex with an angel, which was a completely valid activity), but Dean had still managed to find fifteen minutes or so here and there to get some writing done.

Angels were the first entry. And the current entry. And Dean was starting to think they might be the only damn entry, when after three pages he'd only scratched the surface. They were the creatures he'd been around the most – for better and worse - and the ones he knew the most about. Dean had almost considered buying another book just to fit all the other creatures and spells in.

His crappy handwriting probably didn't help, but hey, it was legible. Mostly.

How Cas had gotten a hold of the journal, he had no idea.

How Cas had suddenly developed a filthy sense of humor, was, of course, entirely Deans fault. Either that or Cas was completely serious – Dean wasn't sure which possibility was more unsettling.

The hunt that day had been a bust. Hours of investigation and interviews only turned up a very pissed off, possibly mentally unbalanced cat.

He'd wish all their jobs were exciting, but in his experience, exciting tends to mean dangerous and exhausting. A bust or two every few weeks was probably extending their life expectancy.

Still, cats were now nudging up behind witches on his least favorite things list. Especially white ones. With black collars. And issues.

Seven band-aids, four beers, two burritos and a hot shower later, he'd flopped on the bed with the journal. He was tempted to add a cautionary note on Feline Personality Disorders, but managed to resist.

It was a close call.

He grabbed the nearest pen – a cheap Biro bearing the hotel name - and opened the book, settling in against the headboard… and that was when he saw it.

At some point, Cas had made quite a few additions to Dean's existing entries, scrawled in a neat cursive script, next to his own blocky, clumsy letters. Dean had never actually seen Cas write anything, and it surprised him. The handwriting was almost beautiful in an antiquated kind of way. It belonged in a Shakespearean play or bleeding into an ancient scroll.

When Dean started reading Cas' additions, though, the gorgeous writing certainly had no place conveying  _these_  words. It was like looking at a beautiful, stunning vase – filled with rocks.

Or a bible full of porn.

Which, well...

 

**Appearance:**

**Vessels are human, possessed only with consent. True form is blinding. True voice is high pitched and deafening. Only some humans can tolerate this. Size and looks vary. Zachariah apparently had 4 faces and 6 wings. Castiel claims his true form is the size of the Chrysler Building.**

_...all claims are accurate, no 'motion of the ocean' references are necessary in relation to the size of various angel's and/or their vessel's appendages..._

**Vulnerabilities/Weaknesses:**

**Banishing sigils drawn in blood, see diagram. Only temporary. Containment by holy oil trap, see instructions next page. Angel Blade. Archangel Sword.**

_...prolonged orgasm denial, useful for bargaining – obtaining specific information, actions or sentences in return for mercy..._

 

Dean groaned and shook his head. He'd been in the process of filling in the long list of angelic powers and abilities, which had been the entry rapidly eating up the pages. He saw that Cas had 'helpfully' added a few notes to that particular list too, and even created some entries of his own:

 

**Superior strength**

_...no bondage accoutrements or restraints necessary…_

**Mind Reading/Telepathy**

_...helpful for sexual inspiration and/or initiating foreplay whilst in polite company…_

**Flight/Teleportation**

_...transport to acceptable locations prior to fornication, as formerly agreed to by the accompanying human…_

**Healing**

_...especially useful for post sexual congress injuries…_

 

To which his ever-thorough (not Dean's fault) and recently sex-crazed (totally Dean's fault) angel had added:

 

_Superior Fellatio Skills_

_...including, but not limited to, lack of gag reflex and ability to fore-go oxygen for extended periods…_

_Language, Enochian_

_...often utilized to excuse tasteless jokes and arouse non-Enochian-fluent humans prior to ejaculation…_

_Unquestioning Obedience_

_...to current sexual partner for a limited period of time as agreed upon before sexual activities - time period to be ceased upon statement of specific word, sentence and/or level of annoyance experienced by the more supernaturally powerful partner…_

 

"Dammit," he muttered, and looked up to the ceiling. "CASTIEL! Feathery ass! Here!  _Now_!"

Dean tried hard not to smirk. It was a matter of principle after all.

Sam poked his head around the bathroom door with a frown, took in his brother's expression, and quickly retreated back into the cloud of steam.

Sam always had been a smart guy.

Dean looked down at the pages and sighed. He was definitely getting another journal.

This one he was keeping for himself.

 

 


End file.
